


Adventure Ahoy!

by Jaiden_S



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Bucky always follows, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Steve and Bucky as kids, Steve can't stop jumping into stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as a kid, Steve couldn't help jumping feet-first into an adventure. And Bucky couldn't help following him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventure Ahoy!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/gifts).



> This is a story about Steve and Bucky as kids, finding adventure and having fun. 
> 
> Gifted to Alexcat, who asked for Steve and Bucky having an adventure. I hope you like it!

Bucky awoke to something cold and wet wriggling its way into his left ear. Alarmed, he blindly swatted at it with both hands and bolted upright in the bed. A flurry of giggles greeted his response.

“Wha?” He rubbed his face and stared bleary-eyed at the snickering blond kid who flitted next to his bedside. “It’s too early for wet willies, Steve.”

Steve stuck his forefinger in his mouth and yanked it out with a loud, sucking pop. “It’s Saturday! Something’s gotta get you up before noon. C’mon, Bucky! The fellas are already down there.”

The threat of another wet willy was enough to drive Bucky out of bed, and he flung the covers off with an annoyed huff. A couple of weeks ago, Freddy Wentz had discovered that the back gate to the old Jeter house on the corner was unlocked, so now they spent nearly every afternoon playing pirates in the backyard. They dug for buried treasure, tried to steal booty from one another and constantly claimed and re-claimed the pile of discarded lumber in the backyard for Spain or France or whatever country their particular brand of pirate happened to be from on that day. Steve had even painted a skull and crossbones on an old pillowcase that he proudly paraded around on the end of a broomstick. At that very moment, it was propped against the wall, just waiting to be hoisted aloft over the woodpile with a hearty cry. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t like playing pirates – what 9 year old boy didn’t like pirates? – but he’d prefer it if the game waited until after lunch. 

Steve bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly as Bucky got dressed. “Geez, Louise, hold your horses,” Bucky said as he sniffed a pair of canvas pants he’d picked up off the floor. The smell didn’t take his breath away, so he figured they were clean enough.

“Hurry up! What if they find the treasure without us?” Steve ricocheted around the room like freshly discharged bullet. “Come ON!”

Fifteen minutes later, they skidded up breathlessly to the Jeter house, the back gate swinging wide open in the late morning breeze. 

“Ahoy, Matey! Who goes there?” A tall red-haired boy with a severe overbite jumped forward and thrust a long piece of scrap wood against Steve’s chest.

“Captain Rogers and First Mate Barnes,” cried Steve as he unfurled his homemade flag. “Out of the way you land lubber!’

Bucky’s early morning reluctance melted away as he rounded the corner of the house into the backyard. Kids swarmed everywhere, some sword fighting with fallen tree limbs, some scurrying to claim the top of the woodpile with their own homemade flag, others digging furiously under a large oak near the back fence hoping to find buried treasure. Rumor had it that Old Man Jeter didn’t trust the banks and buried all his life savings in the backyard. Bucky doubted the truth of the tale, but stranger things had happened.

Captain Rogers and First Mate Barnes dove into the thick of the action, taking up their wooden stick-swords and engaging a couple of dread pirates wearing costume jewelry and newspaper hats. Valiantly they fought against their worthy adversaries until Jimmy Rutland fell and skinned his knee and tearfully decided to go home. Steve claimed victory. 

“Yar! I claim your booty for myself!” he whooped and snatched the paper hat from atop Jimmy’s head.

The fighting raged on, heated and fraught with danger, until Lefty Morehouse heard a strange sound coming from the house. “Hey, fellas!” All the boys gathered round the broken basement window. “It’s a ghost,” breathed Lefty, eyes wide. “I heard it.”

“Nah, he’s lyin,” Max Cleveland smirked. “No such thing as ghosts. My Pop told me so.”

Just then a small cry drifted up from out of the darkness, and the boys all scrambled backward.

“I told ya! It’s a ghost,” Lefty wailed. “I ain’t no liar!”

“Well, it ain’t a ghost.” Max folded his arms over his chest. 

“What is it, then? Can’t be no baby. A baby got no way of getting down there,” challenged Lefty. “It’s a ghost.”

“Prove it,” said Max, his chin raised defiantly. “You’re the one who heard it. Climb down and find out.” 

“The window’s too small. I can’t fit.” Lefty patted his well-padded midsection. 

“I can,” Steve interjected. “I can go down, see if there’s a ghost or not, and tell you who is right.” He pushed through the crowd of boys and knelt down in front of the window.

Bucky clamped a hand down hard on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, no. It’s dark in there, and what if there are rats? Or snakes?” There probably weren’t any snakes, but Bucky was grasping at anything that might keep Steve out of the basement.

“I’m not scared,” challenged Steve. He shrugged off Bucky’s hand. “I’m going down.”

“Then I guess I am, too,” said Bucky with a sigh.

Steve perched on the edge of the broken window and peered down into the darkness. “It’s not that far. I’m gonna jump.”

“No, wait!” Bucky cried and lunged for Steve, but it was too late. Steve launched himself of the windowsill and into the darkness below where he landed with a soft thump.

“Ew. It’s dusty.” Steve coughed and waved his hand around to fan away the swirling dust particles.

Well, there was no helping it. It was a tight fit, but Bucky squeezed his hips through the narrow window opening and landed next to Steve, sending up another angry cloud of dust.

Lefty elbowed the other kids out of the way. “Whaddya see? Are there any ghosts?”

“No, you lug-head,” called Steve. “Just some empty boxes and broken furniture.”

Bucky blinked in the dark, trying to make sense of the shadows in the room. It looked like there were shelves across the wall to the left. If he squinted, he could make out what looked to be a few rows of empty jars, probably used for jams or jellies. He toed a couple of boxes next to him, both of which slid away easily. Empty. “I don’t think there’s anything down here for a ghost to haunt.”

“Of course not. It’s all a bunch of malarkey.” Steve held his hand to his mouth and coughed hard. 

A soft whine sounded from the far side of the room. Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Carefully, he tiptoed toward the sound of the crying, fingers stretched in front of him in the looming dark, Bucky trailing right behind him. He shuffled his feet until he hit the edge of a trunk, stubbing his big toe. Bucky stumbled into him from behind, accidentally pushing him to the floor. “Watch out!” Steve cried as his hands hit the dusty wood. 

Bucky reached down to help Steve up when something warm and wet lapped at his hand. “Yeow!” He snatched his hand back, then watched as something small and dark and furiously wiggling sprang toward him, claws snagging on the leg of his canvas pants. “Well, whaddya know.”

The little ball of fur bounced back toward Steve, licking him right on the cheek, sending him into a raspy fit of giggles. “Looks like we found our ghost,” he laughed.

Steve emerged from the shadows, covered head-to-toe in dust and holding a skinny black puppy. “Here’s your ghost, Lefty,” he declared, holding the puppy toward the window. “Musta fallen through the window.”

Whoops and hollers and shouts of joy erupted from the band of pirates as the wriggling puppy was passed up and out through the window. “Finders keepers,” proclaimed Lefty. “I heard him first so he’s mine!”

Bucky ignored the escalating argument above him and focused on Steve, who stood wheezing and small in the shadowed basement. “I’ll go up first. Then, gimme your hand and I’ll help you out,” he said.

It was much harder to climb out of the basement than it was to drop down into it. Bucky struggled, but managed to haul himself up. Steve’s feet scrabbled against the basement wall as Bucky held fast to his hands and pulled. After a few tries, his shoes found some traction and Bucky hoisted him over the windowsill and onto the cool grassy lawn. A wheezing cough wracked his chest. “I think the dust got to me.”

Bucky dropped down on the grass next to him and put a hand on Steve’s back, rubbing in slow circles as he coughed. “What did you do that for, Steve? You shoulda let me go.”

“And miss an adventure?” Steve rasped as his breathing became more labored. “No way.”

A full-blown asthma attack began to rear its ugly head. Bucky knew the signs all too well. He reached for Steve’s hand and placed it on his chest. “Try to calm down and breathe like me.” He inhaled slowly to a count of four and then exhaled, letting Steve feel the rise and fall of his chest. In. Out. Nice and slow. Steve locked eyes with him and followed his lead, and after a few minutes the attack subsided. 

Bucky frowned. Steve needed to go home and rest, but knowing Steve, he wouldn’t want to leave on account of being sick, not when the fellas were having so much fun. As if on cue, Bucky’s stomach growled loudly, sending Steve into a hoarse fit of giggles. “Is your stomach haunted?”

“Hungry’s all. You made me skip breakfast to come out here. Can we go home and eat? Please? The fellas will be here when we get back.” Bucky grinned and poked Steve in the ribs. “And if they’re not, we’ll have our pick of the best spot in the backyard to dig for treasure.”

Steve’s eyes glittered like a treasure chest full of pirate booty. “It’s a deal.”


End file.
